at
we have irreparably lost." And he gave her his arm and, passed down the
lane of admiring and affectionate guests to their part of the house; and
at the door of the boudoir he left her without a word.

So, with the bride in lonely anguish in the great state bed, the night
of the home-coming passed, and the morrow dawned.

For thus the God of Pride makes fools of his worshipers.

* * * * *

It poured with rain the next day, but the same kind of thing went on for
the different grades of those who lived under the wing of the Tancred
name, and neither bride nor bridegroom failed in their roles, and the
icy coldness between them increased. They had drawn upon themselves an
atmosphere of absolute restraint and it seemed impossible to exchange
even ordinary conversation; so that at this, their second dinner, they
hardly even kept up a semblance before the household servants, and,
being free from feasting, Zara retired almost immediately the coffee had
come. One of the things Tristram had said to her before she left the
room was:

"To-morrow if it is fine you had better see the gardens and really go
over the house, if you wish. The housekeeper and the gardeners will
think it odd if you don't! How awful it is to have to conform to
convention!" he went on. "It would be good to be a savage again. Well,
perhaps I shall be, some day soon."

Then as she paused in her starting for the door to hear what he had
further to say, he continued:

"They let us have a day off to-morrow; they think, quite naturally, we
require a rest. So if you will be ready about eleven I will show you the
gardens and the parts my mother loved--it all looks pretty dreary this
time of the year, but it can't be helped."

"I will be ready," Zara said.

"Then there is the Address from the townspeople at Wrayth, on Thursday,"
he continued, while he walked toward the door to open it for her, "and
on Friday we go up to London to say good-bye to my mother. I hope you
have not found it all too impossibly difficult, but it will soon be over
now."

"The whole of life is difficult," she answered, "and one never knows
what it is for, or why?" And then without anything further she went out
of the door, and so upstairs and through all the lonely corridors to the
boudoir. And here she opened the piano for the first time, and tried it;
and finding it good she sat a long time playing her favorite airs--but
not the _Chanson Triste_--